


Band-Aid

by idiotbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Cure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Finale, Season/Series 10 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotbrothers/pseuds/idiotbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After performing the harrowing demon-curing ritual, Sam manages to change Dean back into a human. In their weakened states, they have a brief talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Band-Aid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mimblexwimble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimblexwimble/gifts).



After seizing several times and straining violently against his restraints, Dean’s eyes finally snapped open, lashes fluttering as he blinked up at Sam. Sam’s relief was so overpowering that his knees gave out and he crouched on the floor in front of Dean, gripping his knees. He’d gotten his brother back.

“Thank god,” he whispered weakly, his blood seeping out of the cut on his palm and staining Dean’s jeans. The very same blood glistened on Dean’s mouth, making him look strange and alarming in the dim lamplight. But Sam knew with an unfaltering certainty that he’d done it. He’d cured Dean. Around the sixth hour of the ritual, the demon that had been his brother had started confessing things; apologies that Sam would never have imagined crossing Dean’s lips, secrets that he’d literally taken to the grave.

It made Sam’s guilt grow as he kept quiet and injected Dean with his blood, but he knew that he couldn’t give in to his curiosity, had to ignore these things he shouldn’t be hearing and keep purifying Dean, no matter how much pain it looked to be causing him. Purifying Crowley had been a whole hell of a lot easier, Trials aside.

"Hey, Sammy. Wanna get me out of these cuffs, or are you thinking it’s a good look for me?" Dean’s voice was entirely devoid of energy, and there was a dullness to his eyes that made him look about ten years too old. Sam freed Dean’s wrists and ankles and hauled him up off the chair, nearly toppling backwards himself because he’d forgotten about his own exhausted body. "So," Dean rasped, then coughed to clear his throat, "Is this the part where we hug, or…"

Sam bowed his head and found himself smiling involuntarily, but it wasn’t a good kind of smile. He backed up from Dean a step to regain a modicum of his personal space. “Dean, why don’t you—why don’t you ever  _talk_  to me?” Dean’s face did some impressive acrobats. “Oh, are we doing this now? C’mon, man, I just got back. And let me tell you, the things I remember—”

"No. We need to settle this, okay? We keep saying we’ll do it—be more open—but it never happens. And then we end up dying."  _It’s like we die to run away from each other_ , Sam thought, but the notion was too horrible for him to speak aloud.

“Jesus Christ, Sam, haven’t I  _opened up_  to you enough for one day? I died, I was Crowley’s pet for a while,” here he paused and frowned with revulsion, and Sam knew Dean wasn’t gonna let that particular tidbit go anytime soon. "But I’m back. You brought me back. All that other stuff can wait," he finished, reaching for Sam’s shoulder before changing his mind and letting his hands fall. 

 _It really can’t_.

Sam knew what the most likely outcome was: they’d drop the discussion with the presumption that it could be picked up later—“later”, some amorphous future setting where everything was magically better between them—but neither of them would ever feel up to doing so again. That’s how it always happened. 

"Before you—" Sam’s throat closed up around the word ‘died’, which struck him as bordering on ridiculous considering how many times he’d lost Dean. He tried again, wanting an answer to a new question that had snagged at the back of his mind. "What did you mean, you’re proud of us? …It’s been driving me crazy, trying to figure that out." Dean scratched his cheek, looking even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. "Yeah, I dunno. It sounded good in my head." 

A laugh wrenched its way out of Sam’s mouth, and that surprised him, made him laugh some more. “Are you…are you fucking kidding me?”

"What?" Dean sounded indignant, but Sam couldn’t stop now, silent laughter ripping through him as Dean continued, "As last words go, those weren’t so bad. Right?" 

"Proud of us," Sam wheezed, clutching at Dean’s arm and lowering his forehead onto his brother’s shoulder, tears of mirth leaking out of his eyes. After standing stock-still for a brief moment, Dean brought a hesitant hand to Sam’s back, patted awkwardly. "You have a weird fuckin’ sense of humor, Sam." Sam breathed out against Dean’s neck, still trembling with laughter. "Okay, it’s just. I kept thinking about—about  _us_ , and. What is there to be proud of? It’s—I’m sorry, it’s like…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words, and it was suddenly really important that he do so, and when Dean’s hand froze on his back, Sam realized that his laughs had turned into sobs.

"Sammy." 

"Shit, why am I—" Sam pulled away, tried to dry his eyes with his sleeve but they were brimming over, and he couldn’t control how quickly and harshly his breaths were coming out. The blood crusted over his palm itched, his whole head ached, and Dean was staring at him like he was afraid of him, an analogy that hit way too close to home and Sam was turning away because at this rate he’d cry until there were no tears left, like he’d done two weeks ago when his brother was laid out on a mattress that wasn’t his and his face was ashen and cold and…

"Sam, wait," Dean caught him by the wrist, and Sam waited.

"I’m proud of  _you_ , okay,” he said, so quietly that maybe it was just Sam’s brain filling in the blanks with what it wanted to hear. But then he repeated it, “I’m proud of you,” firmer this time, an apology that wasn’t an apology but Sam would take it anyway, and with that thought, Dean was getting his reunion hug, Sam’s sobs muffled into his shoulder. 


End file.
